


turning darkness to light

by clicheusername5678



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Based Entirely on Tropes, F/F, Fluff, Friends to lovers to enemies to lovers again, Happy Ending, Violence, swords and ballgowns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 16:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18553519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clicheusername5678/pseuds/clicheusername5678
Summary: Royalty/Victorian/I Don't Really Know What To Call This AU.Princess Adora and her lady-in-waiting Catra have a nearly perfect life together. But when Adora finds a sword that hints of her secret past and magical destiny, life will never be the same.





	1. awakening

Princess Adora awoke to a knock at her door. 

“Darling,” the queen drawled, opening it up a crack. Yellow candlelight bled into the bed chambers, illuminating the pink wallpaper and gold-plated sculptures on the mantle. 

“Yes?” Adora asked, sitting up in her four-poster bed. The white curtains were drawn, granting her a view of her mother’s silhouetted form.

“I know it’s late,” Queen Weaver said, shutting the door behind her. She held a candelabra in her bony, gloved hand. “But I have just returned from a meeting with Horde generals and I require your thoughts.”

Adora nodded and pulled the bed-curtains completely aside, hopping onto her carpet with bare feet. She smoothed her pink nightgown down, determined to appear regal even in her bedclothes. 

Shadow Weaver nodded and used the candelabra to light the candle on Adora’s armoire. The room was bathed in dim light, and Adora finally noticed the tiny form hiding behind her mother’s skirts. 

“Hello there,” she greeted, waving.

Shadow Weaver nodded. “You’ve noticed our company,” she said. “She’s eight years old, just like you. Soldiers found her during the invasion on Half Moon.”

The girl finally stepped into the light, causing Adora to gasp. She was mostly human, but slightly… other. Her skin was dark, slightly orange, peppered with freckles. Her hair was brown and long, hastily brushed down but clearly resistant. She had long triangle ears and a tail, wrapped anxiously around her own leg.

“Your eyes,” Adora said, stepping forward. “They’re…”

“Odd,” Queen Weaver said flatly. 

Indeed they were different colors—turquoise and yellow—but Adora didn't consider them unpleasant. In fact, she thought they were beautiful, like the jewels in the opulent pieces Queen Weaver promised would someday be hers. 

“You may call her Catra,” Shadow Weaver said. “I’m sure you’ve noticed she has certain catlike attributes.” 

Adora cocked her head and look over the girl again. She wore a simple dress, beige, something a palace employee would wear—but she was merely a child. 

“Why have you brought her?” Adora asked. She wondered if Catra was capable of speech, like the other hybrids from the Royal Army she had met.

“She is a unique case,” the Queen said. “An orphan. The soldiers had no idea what to make of her. It occurred to me that eventually you would need a lady-in-waiting, and brought her for your consideration.” 

Adora blinked, picturing the group of palace women who would crowd around her mother, beautifying and pampering her. The Queen had always promised her, the Princess, her own attendants once she grew. 

“An orphan,” Adora said, staring into Catra’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

Catra looked down, silent.

“She has nowhere else to go,” Shadow Weaver said. “If she isn’t to your liking—and I wouldn’t disagree—I will send her to the nearest orphanage.”

It was then that Adora realized Catra was trembling with fear, and possibly grief. She shook her head furiously. “No, she can stay,” she said. “I want her to stay.” 

Catra looked up, her eyes wide.

Shadow Weaver chucked. “Well, she’s yours, then. I will bring her to the other ladies-in-waiting. I’m sure they can find her a cot.” 

But Catra had already curled up, in a fast-breathing ball, on Adora’s white tufted ottoman. Shadow Weaver scowled. 

“Get up, you foolish child!” she scolded. “You may not rest on your Princess’s possessions!”

Adora put her hands out in protest. “Mother! She… she’s faced great tragedy, hasn’t she?”

Catra released a low, mournful sigh. 

Shadow Weaver sighed. “You do with her what you see fit. But if she causes any trouble…”

Adora nodded. “I’ll tell you if she does,” she said, but she doubted she’d ever say a word. The idea of a companion her own age excited her, especially since a friend was so rare to come by.

“Sleep well, darling,” Shadow Weaver said as she approached the door. Adora bowed awkwardly in her nightgown as her mother extinguished the candle on the armoire. 

“Good night, Mother,” Adora said as the room went dark. Shadow Weaver exited and the bedroom door creaked shut behind her. 

Silence met Adora, who stood barefoot in front of her bed. “Are you awake?” she asked into the darkness.

After a beat, a high-pitched girl’s voice answered. “Y-yes, ma’am.” 

“Ma’am?” 

“She told me to call you that,” Catra explained. 

Adora sighed and climbed back into bed, keeping the curtains open. “I don’t want you to,” she said. After a pause, she spoke again. “Are you comfortable, Catra?” 

“Yes.” 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a pillow, or blanket? You can use one of mine. Or you can sleep on the chaise, right over there… it’s much larger and you won’t have to curl up.” 

“Please,” the girl whimpered, her voice cracking. “I just want to sleep.” 

Adora’s face melted. “It is awful you lost your parents,” she said. “But you are going to be safe here, and happy. I promise.”

Adora heard a distant rustle from the edge of the room, and then felt a strange pressure at her feet. 

“Catra?” she asked into the dark. She was answered by the slits of two half-opened eyes, turquoise and gold.

The girl had moved to the edge of Adora’s bed, curled up yet again, but shaking no longer.

Adora sighed and leaned back onto her pillows and plushes. “Sleep well, Catra.”

She heard the slightest exhale. “Good night.”

°•. ✿ .•°  _Eleven_   _Years_   _Later_  °•. ✿ .•°

Princess Adora awoke to Catra lying at the foot of her bed.

“Catraaaaa,” she groaned, reaching out long arms. “C’mere…” 

The other girl sighed, stretched her arms above her head, and looked into Adora’s eyes. They had both grown into healthy and strong young women, Adora a few inches taller than Catra, Catra less wild-looking than she was as a child. 

Catra ran a long-nailed hand through her hair and army-crawled up the lavish comforter, arriving at the head of the mattress. She easily fit into Adora, who preferred being the big spoon, unless she was having nightmares. 

Clearly, Adora slept well last night. 

“You don't have to sleep down there,” Adora reminded Catra, placing her hands on Catra’s waist. Catra, as always, was warm.

“I know,” Catra yawned. “I just felt like it. Had a bad dream.”

Adora frowned. “We’re supposed to tell each other about nightmares,” she said. “I would have comforted you.”

Catra smirked. “As much as I enjoy your  _comfort_ ,” she said, “you looked so beautiful at rest. It would have been a sin to wake you.” 

Adora pressed a kiss to the back of Catra’s head and then helped her turn so they faced each other.

“Hey, Adora,” Catra said lowly, grinning. 

Adora kissed her again, this time on the soft mouth. Catra tasted like morning breath, but Adora couldn't bring herself to mind. 

“What’s on the agenda for today, Princess?” Catra asked, absentmindedly playing with Adora’s fingers. 

Adora sighed. “Dining with Mother,” she said. “High tea—your favorite.”

Catra blew out warm air, rolling her eyes. “Lovely.”

“Then I have language lessons in the courtyard,” Adora said. “So I expect that’ll be your first nap.”

Catra nodded vigorously. 

“Then I have a gown fitting for the Frost Ball.”

“Gross.”

“It is not!” Adora argued, tickling Catra at the sides. “You just don't like dresses or the other ladies-in-waiting.”

“It's annoying when they dote on you,” Catra said stiffly.

“None of them sleep in my bed,” Adora argued. “I think you’ve won.”

Catra kissed Adora and smiled wide.

“After dinner,” Adora said tenderly, “I was thinking we could sneak away to the woods.”

Catra raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“I know I was nervous before,” Adora said, “but you trust your friends from the Royal Army, and I trust you. If they said it would be fun, I think we should go.”

Catra grinned, self-satisfied. When she wasn't attending to the Princess she often socialized with the Queen’s soldiers, who she found far more tolerable than the ‘upstairs’ palace employees. A friend had notified her that the woods surrounding the castle were wonderful for sight-seeing with a lover. 

“The Queen won’t like you going out,” Catra said. 

“What can I say?” Adora murmured, nipping at Catra’s exposed collarbone. “I’m a rebel.” 

Catra blushed and pulled up her nightgown, to Adora’s disappointment. The blonde pouted and Catra sighed, exposing her shoulder again. 

“Quickly,” she said. “We have tea.” 

“Thanks for the reminder, lady-in-waiting,” Adora teases.

“And we have to get you all dressed,” Catra added, nuzzling into Adora as she adorned her chest. “Whoah, ‘Dora, teeth—” 

“Mmm,” Adora noised. “Want me to stop?”

Blushing, Catra shook her head. 

“I’d like to demonstrate my appreciation for my lady-in-waiting,” Adora said, climbing on top of the other girl. 

“You could sneak me an extra scone?” Catra suggested, blushing profusely.

Adora caressed her cheek and pressed a chaste kiss to her slightly-opened lips. “Honestly—do we have time to…?”

Catra sighed and looked at the ornate white clock about Adora’a fireplace. Then she turned her head back to center and narrowed her eyes. 

“I think we’ll be all right.” 

°•. ✿ .•°

There were eleven garments in Adora’s everyday attire, and Catra had managed to dress her in ten.  

“Mother is going to notice,” Adora said as she adjusted the neckline of her day-dress. The cloth that would normally obscure her bust was absent, thrown across her bedroom days ago and likely hidden beneath an armoire.  

“You look gorgeous as usual, Princess,” Catra sighed, hastily dressed in a brick-colored garment herself. Because she was so close to the Princess, she usually wore clothes nicer than those of the other ladies-in-waiting—and if they had anything to say about it, they say so speak behind her back. 

“My stockings have a rip,” Adora added, “from  _someone’s_  claws.”

Catra shrugged. “Didn't hear you complaining when I was removing them, Highness.” 

Adora giggled and elbowed Catra in the gut. They passed by castle servants and biding dignitaries, who at this point knew not to stare at the Princess and her lady-in-waiting.

They arrived at the grand dining room just in time. The Queen was already seated at the head of the table, a servant pouring her a goblet of water. 

“Mother,” Adora breathed. “Good morning.”

“Darling,” Queen Weaver cooed, standing and giving Adora a kiss on the cheek. The Princess sat beside the queen, while her lady-in-waiting stood behind her.

“Oh, Mother,” Adora said, “May Catra be seated for the high tea?” 

Queen Weaver scoffed. “She is your attendant,” she said. “However idiotic your ideas may be, I have no right to stop you.”

Shadow Weaver had disliked Catra from the day she had passed her to Adora, and wasn't subtle about it. She especially seemed to disapprove of the friendly treatment Adora granted her attendant, and the laziness she perceived Catra to have. 

The Queen’s attendants watched bitterly as Catra sat beside Adora in a cushioned dining chair. The room was massive, almost churchlike, with a tall vaulted ceiling, hand-painted walls, and golden decorative accents. There were nearly twenty spots at the dining table, although only three were currently in use. 

“Where is Father?” Adora asked, eyeing his empty seat. 

“King Hordak is with the Army,” Shadow Weaver said. “He won’t be attending tea.”

Adora frowned as the kitchen servants perfected her place setting. Her mother eyed her attire and scowled.

“Darling, your chemise,” she said. Angrily, she turned to Catra. “You are asked to do so little by my foolish daughter! At least dress her properly!”

“Mother!” Adora exclaimed. “It was my fault, I misplaced yesterday’s garment.”

Queen Weaver groaned in Catra’s direction. “Be sure to fetch her another from laundry,” she said. “Perhaps an extra.”

Catra swallowed and nodded.

“I've also noticed that one of the castle birds is missing,” Shadow Weaver said suspiciously. 

Adora gave Catra a look. Last week, she had found a dead bird in her riding boot. Catra had claimed it was a gift.

“Maybe it flew away,” Adora suggested lightly. 

The tense conservation was interrupted by servants bringing out the three-tiered high tea display. There were finger sandwiches, scones, jam, and clotted cream, with small desserts made of chocolate hazelnuts and sponge cake. A tea pot and cup were placed in front of each woman, while pitchers of milk and cream appeared on the table’s center. 

Catra poured Adora’s tea first, and then her own as Adora plopped a sugar cube into each cup. They waited for Shadow Weaver to drink first, and then dug in. 

“You're nearing marriage age,” Shadow Weaver said, chasing Adora to spit out a bite of her scone. Catra coughed loudly as Adora cleaned her mess with a cloth napkin.

“And what about it?” Adora asked, rolling the napkin in a ball. 

Shadow Weaver bit into a finger sandwich. “We have made several alliances with nearby kingdoms,” she said, “with available of-age princesses.”

Adora wrinkled her nose. “I know, but—” 

“Marriage is a political act, darling,” Shadow Weaver said stiffly. “You know love isn’t involved. For that, you may have… others.”

Catra scowled as Shadow Weaver looked pointedly in her direction.

“What if I have… differently ideas?” Adora asked, yet again walking on thin ice. This wasn't the first time she had this conversation, nor would it be the last.

“I am far too lenient already,” Shadow Weaver answered shortly. “Your marriage is not up for discussion.”

Adora frowned and deflated into her chair. Catra’s hand met hers under the table.

Then, it started to get adventurous.

“I am excited for my language lesson today, Mother,” Adora said, ignoring the claws parsing past several layers of skirts. “I'll be learning some Latin ph— _RAS_ —es!”

Catra was making circles on her bare thigh, exposed through the hole in her stocking.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” Shadow Weaver asked. 

Adora sighed and took a sip of tea. “Nothing, Mother.”

She always did love when Catra sat at the table. 

°•. ✿ .•°

Adora's language lesson had been canceled due to her instructor's illness—but the courtyard was open and flooded with sun, so she opted to practice swordplay instead. 

“Ha!” the princess shouted as she thrust her weapon forward. Catra bit her lip and stepped back, narrowly avoiding the advance. 

The castle courtyard was hidden by high fences and shrubs, which currently bore purple and pink flowers. The ground was made of grey stone with grass and flowers poking through. A large golden fountain flowed in the center of the yard, babbling and bubbling constantly. Catra and Adora fought around it, shouting out various playful threats. 

Fighting in a long skirt was a talent that both women had perfected over the years. Catra looked behind her shoulder and effortlessly hopped onto the fountain’s stone edge, obtaining the higher ground. 

Adora hopped up beside her and they continued to spar. From a nearby balcony, she could see her father the King watching. 

“Come and catch me!” Catra shouted, hopping off the fountain. She sprinted towards the woodsy corner of the courtyard, full of weeping trees and vines. There, they could be alone.

Adora kept up and made her way into the shadowed space. Catra was waiting for her, coming down on her sword and knocking it out of her hands. 

“A trick!” Adora declared as she turned on her heel. 

“Uh-huh,” Catra whispered in her ear, dancing around her. She then faced Adora, grinning smugly, and held the edge of her blade to the princess’s neck. In her other hand she held Adora’s sword. 

Adora blinked once, and then twice. 

“I won,” Catra said softly. 

“I love you,” Adora answered her. 

Both swords clattered to the ground as the two embraced. The kiss was slow and passionate, unrushed, unwatched— 

Just theirs. 

°•. ✿ .•°

“I’m not certain I like it,” Adora said as she faced the tri-paneled dressing mirror. Two of her mother’s attendants fitted the gown she wore, flittering like birds. Catra remained perched in the corner of Adora's bedroom, atop the ottoman she had claimed as her own. 

Adora’s chambers were massive, including an en suite bathroom and walk-in closet. Not much had changed since her childhood—the pink and white wallpaper, countless golden and jeweled accents, or the chaise lounge beside her four-poster bed. 

The only difference was the size of her shoes, amount of jewelry and accessories, and a few personal items belonging to her lady-in-waiting, who everyone knew slept where the Princess did. It had been a pure thing during childhood, understandable that the child would want friendship amongst her many duties, but in adulthood the two were subject to whispers; not that either particularly minded. If anyone dared to insult Princess Adora of the Horde Kingdom to her face, her mother and father would invoke great wrath upon them—not to mention Catra. 

“It looks beautiful,” Catra said, lazing in a direct patch of light from the window. She often enjoyed sunbathing during her off-duty hours. “They all look beautiful.” 

Adora furrowed her brow. “It’s the Frost Ball, Catra—it’s important that I look nice, especially since I’m of marrying age.” 

The dressing attendants nodded in agreement. Catra rolled her eyes. 

“Well, then I hope you look disgusting,” she said. “I’d hate to share you.” 

Adora stuck out her tongue. “Marriage is not romantic,” she recited. “By marriage I can make an alliance for the Horde or obtain riches.”

“Or produce heirs,” Catra said. 

Adora shuddered. “I don’t want to think about that.” 

“Tiny little Adoras running around the castle? Me neither.” 

Adora rolled her eyes. “Consider my mother and father,” she said. “Neither loves the other. But it’s their duty to be together and conquer.” 

“And it’s yours to marry some other princess.” 

“Yes.” 

“And you and your wife are free to explore… whatever other options you fancy, on the side.” 

“You’re more than an option, Catra,” Adora said in that endearing voice of hers. “You’re all I want.”

Catra tried and failed to remain aloof, rising off her ottoman and walking behind Adora. The ladies-in-waiting stepped aside for her, and she pressed her face into the other girl’s bare back. Adora was quite taller than her at the moment, due to her position on a dressing stool.

“Excuse me,” said the sterner of the two dressers. “We need to finish the gown.” 

“Of course,” Catra said smoothly, standing back. She shot Adora a sly smile in the mirror, which her reflection caught. 

One of the women offered Adora two sashes, red and pink. Adora nodded. “I like the red,” she said. 

Catra returned to her ottoman, curled into a ball, and napped into the afternoon. 

°•. ✿ .•°

The edge of the woods were dark and verdant, the leaves of trees rustling in the evening breeze. Hand in hand, Catra and Adora made their way through the brush, entering a clearing with no clear path in sight. 

“What if we just… ran away?” Catra asked, picking up a large stick like a sword. “Steal some palace horses, ride around the world… you have the money and I have the charm. We could be great.” 

Adora smiled but grabbed the stick from Catra’s hand. “I could never,” she said. “Mother and Father wouldn’t allow it. I have a duty, you know.” 

Catra groaned. “You know, sometimes I think you’d be better off without all this responsibility. Especially the marriage thing.”

Adora frowned and held both of Catra’s hands. Something in her eyes indicated that was no longer playing around. “I love you,” she said, “and only you. Political unions are formed and broken, but this… this stays. I look after you, and you look after me. The King and Queen, or my future wife, could never change what we have.”

Catra looked from Adora’s hands into her eyes. “You promise?”

Adora kissed her on the freckled nose. “I promise.” 

Catra took a deep breath in and exhaled. Adora’s hands slipped from her own, and soon the other girl was off to break through another barrier of foliage.

“Let’s go deeper,” Adora said, ignoring the dirt stains on her skirt. Catra winced—Shadow Weaver would certainly blame that on her.

Adora held a curtain of greens open for Catra, allowing her into yet another clearing. There was a drop at the edge of it, nearly a cliff—Adora instinctively reached for Catra’s hand. 

“I’m fine,” Catra said, shoving her away. “You don't have to—”

And with that, Adora’s heel lodged against a spindly tree root and she began to tumble down the hill. Catra shouted out her name as she rolled against the dirt, a rotating mess of pink skirts and white. 

Adora’s head hit the ground and everything went black. 

°•. ✿ .•°

“ _Adora_ …  _Adora_ …”

Everything was dark until there was light. A single focused light, blue then pink then purple, calling to her. She tried to reach out and failed. She only could listen. 

“ _Princess_   _Adora_ …”

She knew that she was a princess. She had been one all her life. 

“ _There_   _is_   _much_   _you_   _don’t_   _know_.”

There were images, and colors, and a shock. She saw a sword—but not her sword, the thin silver thing she used in the palace courtyard. It was massive, with a golden base and a blue gem at its end. It sang in strange words she understood.

The sword knew her. And somehow… she knew it. 

“ _Adora_ …  _Adora_ …”

“ADORA!”

She awoke to Catra’s face above her own. Panicked, her freckled cheeks stained with recent tears, a mess. 

“Catra…” Adora whispered. 

Catra sighed with relief and enveloped Adora in a bone-crushing hug. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” she said. “And very dirty,” she added as she pulled away. 

Adora scowled. “I seem to remember you shoving me over the cliff.”

“It was an accident!” Catra shouted, turning red. “I’d never—”

“I know,” Adora said, standing up. “Can we go back to the palace? My head hurts.”

Catra nodded zealously. “I found a path back, it’s how I got down… that awful ridge, I should have never brought you out here.” 

“I had fun,” Adora said, “until the ridge. I love being with you.” 

“Well, you can be with me in the castle,” Catra said as the girls began to walk. “In your washroom, taking a bath, while I send your clothes to be laundered.”

Adora raised an eyebrow. “You want to be with me in the bath? Provocative, Catra, but I won’t refuse.” 

“Are you trying to get pushed over another ridge, Adora?”

Adora pressed a kiss behind Catra’s ear. “Race you home?” she whispered, grinning.

Catra jumped in shock, giving Adora the starting advantage. She chased the pink-colored blur into the brush as evening melted into night. 

°•. ✿ .•°

Even with Catra asleep on her chest, cuddling her at the waist, Adora was unable to sleep that night. She lay awake, eyes wide open, remembering the voices and the sword and the darkness and the light. 

She had to return to the clearing. 

She considered waking Catra, as they had agreed to do for each other as children with frequent nightmares—but then she remembered that Catra hadn't awoken her last night.

She understood it, looking down at the other girl’s face. She looked so peaceful, innocent, unencumbered… it truly  _would_  be a sin to disturb her. 

Adora slid out from under Catra and threw on her boots and cloak. After a second’s thought, she turned back to kiss  _her_  slumbering princess on the forehead. 

She turned on her heel, exited her chambers, and headed for the night woods—to the sword, to the voices, and to her unknown destiny. 


	2. realizations

Princess Adora was not accustomed to travelling alone.

She pulled her traveling cloak tightly to her chest as she snuck past the castle gates, following the path Catra had taken her into the woods. She kept the image of the sword in her head, retraced her steps past the brush at the clearing’s edge.

She reached the ridge—but this time, also noticed the steep passage downwards that Catra must have taken to retrieve her. Adora sighed at the thought of her lady-in-waiting; hopefully she’d return home before Catra even awoke, none the wiser to Adora’s nighttime wandering.

At least Adora was bringing back a sword, which Catra would undoubtedly find fascinating.

Now, if only she could locate it…

Adora lifted her skirts as she stepped over muddy ground, the sounds of the forest humming and chittering around her. It occurred to her that she ought to be afraid—she was a Princess, and if someone from an enemy kingdom found her here, they weren’t likely to be kind. The Horde had many enemies, after all.

Something told Adora to walk slightly to the left, into yet another overgrown clearing. She pulled aside branches and boughs, stepping forward into the dark, and then the light.

The sword was impossibly beautiful, gold and turquoise and white. Adora approached it, eyes wide, and reached a single finger towards the handle.

“STOP RIGHT THERE!” bellowed an unfamiliar voice. Adora jumped and then froze as footsteps advanced. Two figures burst into the clearing: a short woman in teal armor and a taller man in an oddly cropped jacket and high waisted pants.

Adora narrowed her eyes, her heart pounding against her chest. These people weren’t from the Horde. She would have to fight or flee, and the sword was right there…

“Stand back!” Adora warned, picking up the massive thing. It felt nothing like her sword back at the castle; it was heavier, and her hands tingled at its touch. But still—it felt right.

The pair stopped in their tracks. The girl, Adora could see, was perhaps several years younger than herself, while the man was her age. He had dark skin and soft eyes; her hair was somehow pink, and her eyes were a dark brown.

“I mean it,” Adora insisted, although her voice betrayed her fear. “I know how to use this thing.”

The man cocked his head. “You know how to use Eternian weaponry?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Adora said. “J-just leave me alone.”

The girl crossed her arms over her chest. “I know who you are,” she said coldly. “You’re the Horde Princess, right?”

 “So what?”

The man winced and the girl began to advance, not unlike Catra when she was preying on an unlucky bird.

“Your kingdom,” she said coldly, “killed my  _father_.”

Adora blinked. “Well, I… I didn’t do that, so just…”

The girl continued to advance, and Adora’s grip on the sword tightened.  _For the honor of Grayskull_ , a voice whispered in her head.

“ _What?_ ” Adora exclaimed, her voice fearful.

The girl paused and raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Well,  _someone_  did!” Adora cried. “Something like, ‘For the honor of Grayskull—'”

The sword seemed to burst into a mass of pure white light, consuming Adora and the two strangers. When it receded, seconds later, Adora’s vision seemed… different, somehow.

“Bow,” the girl said, tugging on the man’s sleeve.

“I see her, Glimmer,” he said.

Adora, sword still in hand, finally realized what was so different about her point of view: she was standing an extra two feet taller. Her eyes traveled down her own body, widening at the sight of a white battle gown and heavy golden boots. The hair on her head had been somehow released, flowing long and free all around her. Judging by the light she cast upon the valley’s foliage and her present company, she seemed to glow.

“We’ll have to show Mother,” the girl named Glimmer said. The man named Bow nodded, and ironically pulled a bow of his own from behind his back.

Adora’s mouth widened in horror. “Wait, don’t—”

The arrow pierced her left thigh and she went down. The light surrounding Adora died and the whispering voices in her head lulled her to sleep.

°•. ✿ .•°

Adora’s head was fuzzy.

“Catra?” she whimpered, her eyes blinking open. She laid in an unfamiliar room, the walls painted pastel purple. The space was empty except for her bed and the sword.

 _The sword_ , Adora remembered. She had never returned to the castle… or to Catra.

The Princess tried to move, but cried out in shock when she realized that her wrists were roped to the headboard. Not tight enough to prevent movability or burn, but fastened with the intention to keep her where she was.

Adora cried out and kicked her legs, which were mostly covered by her dirty, torn skirts. Her mother would lose her mind over the damage… if she ever made it home.

“SOMEONE, HELP!” Adora yelled, turning to face the only door in the room. It was closed, most likely locked. Fear sunk into Adora’s chest as she realized that someone might want to hurt her… that she’d die here, in this unfamiliar kingdom, alone.

There was so much she still wanted to say and do. It couldn’t be over now.

The sword was propped against the wall, at least—Adora wished she could somehow summon it. But without her touch, it seemed to just be an object, incapable of magic or sentient action.

Adora screamed out again, despite the fact that it could very well be for her own execution. She needed someone to enter the room, open the door… she could try to fight them, fight back, but could do nothing stuck in this room alone…

As though by her command, the door creaked open. In walked Glimmer, Bow, and a taller woman Adora instantly recognized as Angella, the Queen of Bright Moon.

“Princess Adora,” the woman pronounced, walking slowly towards the bed. Adora narrowed her eyes and scowled; from her mother and father’s ramblings she knew that the kingdom of Bright Moon was an enemy of the Horde.

“Let me go,” Adora demanded. “If the King and Queen discover you’re holding me here—"

“ _I_ am the Queen here,” Angella said, although her voice had none of Shadow Weaver’s typical malice. If anything, she sounded as though she pitied Adora.

And, to make matters even more confusing, Queen Angella knelt at Adora’s bed.

“What are you doing?” Adora demanded.

“There is much you do not know,” Angella said. “I’d like to tell you the truth, Adora.”

“Don’t bother,” Adora said stiffly. “I’m not giving you anything.”

“I want nothing but your freedom,” Angella rebutted. “Freedom from the lies of your perceived mother and father, the King and Queen of the Horde.”

Adora raised an eyebrow. “Perceived?”

“Child,” Angella said, “I am sorry.”

Adora raised her gaze to Bow and Glimmer, who wore similarly serious expressions.

“Your mother and father are dead,” Angella told Adora, reverence in her voice. “They were warriors and protectors of their kingdom, Eternia, until the Horde invaded Castle Grayskull, slaughtered them, and stole their infant daughter—you.”

Adora breathed in and then out. “I don’t understand.”

“You are a Princess, yes,” Angella said, “but not of the Horde. Of  _Eternia_. And thus, you are connected to this—” Angella motioned to the sword, “—piece of Eternian weaponry, the Sword of Protection.”

Adora swallowed. “When I used it,” she recalled, “I… transformed. I became taller, and I glowed.”

Angella nodded sagely. “Eternians were capable of magic,” she explained, “that is now mostly dead to the world. Before your time of recollection, there were two kingdoms with magical denizens in Etheria—and the Horde brutally eliminated both. All that remains are artifacts and memories… and you.”

Adora’s mouth opened in a tiny ‘o.’ Gathering her wits, she shut it. “I refuse to believe you,” she snarled.

“You wielded the sword,” Angella said. “You the heard voices, felt the magic, yes? Those were your Eternian ancestors, calling out to you, coming to life. How else could you explain it?”

Adora’s heart dropped. The woman was right—this was real. This was  _her_.

“Your full birth name,” Angella said quietly, “is Princess Adora She-Ra of Eternia. I know this because your mother and father had named me your protector, in the case of their deaths.”

Adora’s frown deepened. “But I grew up in the Horde, with Mother—Shadow Weaver, I mean.”

Angella nodded. “I am truly sorry,” she said. “The Horde made it appear that you were dead. You were hidden in the castle, and I hadn’t even the suspicion that you survived…”

“But I’m intended to appear to the public,” Adora said, “at the Frost Ball, in several days’ time.”

“That does not surprise me,” Angella said. “The Horde has many allies—even if I spoke up about your identity, far too many powerful people lay at your King’s feet to accept the truth.”

“I still don’t understand why you expect me to trust you,” Adora said. “Even if this is true, I’ve had an entire _life_ with the Horde. What do you expect me to do now?”

Finally, Glimmer spoke, a scowl on her face. “We’re not happy about this either.”

“Hush, Glimmer,” Angella said. “I do agree that this is… tragic. But all we can do now is look to the future. And the future is rebellion against the Horde.”

“You have a rebellion?”

Angella nodded. “We aren’t many, to be fair. Those two, plus Princesses Netossa and Spinerella…”

Adora glanced at Bow and Glimmer. They certainly didn’t look as though they could topple the Horde.

“I… never thought we were wrong,” Adora said, more to herself than anyone else. “But what you’re saying—if it’s true—is that the Horde Kingdom has slaughtered multiple kingdoms’-worth of people.”

Angella nodded her head sadly. “Their conquest continues to this day.”

“I never knew,” Adora said. “I… never  _cared_  to know.”

Angella cast her pitying look again. “There is nothing you can do to change your past. All you can do now is embrace your truth, and your destiny.”

“My destiny?”

“Stay here,” Angella said, motioning to the room. “Join the Rebellion. Fight the Horde with the Eternian magic you have, activated by that sword. It is rightfully yours, after all.”

Adora blinked. “You want me to become… powerful, again, and fight on your side? Fight my mother and father, my  _kingdom_?”

“You now know of the Horde’s evil,” Angella said. “Will you choose to continue in willful ignorance, or avenge your parents and true kingdom?”

Adora knew it wasn’t a question. There was only one answer, and as surreal as it seemed, she couldn’t resist the pull to the light.

She took a breath and let it take her.

“Yes,” she breathed. “I accept.”

Angella smiled warmly. “My dear, I am glad—”

“But we have to find Catra,” Adora added, “so she can join me here.”

Angella frowned. “Catra?”

“My lady-in-waiting,” Adora explained, her face going sour at the term. “No, that’s not right, that’s not  _all_ … she’s my… I don’t know if I have a word for it, actually.”

“How do you suggest we reach her?” Angella asked, skeptical. “Do you think she’s as likely to turn against the Horde as yourself? She  _is_  a castle employee.”

Adora chuckled darkly. “She’s about as loyal to the Horde as she’s loyal to a hairbrush,” she said.

“It’s still a risk,” Angella argued, “reaching her.”

“I’m not negotiating,” Adora said, although her hands were still bound. “We have a promise.”

“Very well,” Angella sighed. “After you’ve proven yourself in battle, we will attempt to retrieve this Catra. Of course, you yourself won’t be permitted to return to the Horde Castle—your capture would end us all.”

“Proven myself?” Adora asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The Horde is invading our ally kingdom, Plumeria, as we speak,” Angella said. “With you on the battlefield, we might be able to hold them off.”

Angella turned to Glimmer and nodded; the girl approached Adora, unsheathed a small dagger, and removed her bindings. Adora rubbed her wrists and frowned, not entirely friendly towards the pair who assaulted her in the woods.

“If I do this,” she said, rising to her feet, “you’ll bring Catra to Bright Moon?”

“You have my word, Adora,” Angella said.

Adora sighed, walked over to the sword, and took it in her hands. The Etherian magic seemed to course through her veins.

“Take me to Plumeria,” she demanded, undignified but powerful in her muddy frock. Glimmer and Bow exchanged an odd stare, while Angella nodded.

“As you wish, Princess Adora… She-Ra.”


	3. reputation

The sun had risen, but Adora hadn’t returned to bed.

Catra nuzzled into her pillow, the scent of the absent princess giving her little comfort. All she could do was wait, but as the minutes bled into hours her hope dwindled. Well past the morning, into the afternoon, Adora did not return… and by the lowering of the evening sun, Catra wondered if she’d ever see her again.

Shadow Weaver didn’t bother knocking before bursting into the room. “You lazy, traitorous fool!” She startled Catra out of bed. “How dare you allow her to leave the castle?”

“Do you know where she’s gone?”

The Queen stormed across the room and grabbed Catra by the collar of her nightgown. The lady-in-waiting whimpered.

“She has abandoned her kingdom,” the Queen spat into Catra’s face. “For Bright Moon.”

Catra’s heterochromatic eyes opened wide. “What?”

“Our soldiers report seeing her in battle this afternoon in Plumeria, fighting  _our_  army as some sort of magical warrior. You spend ever damn moment with her, or so I thought. Explain what happened immediately!”

“I don’t know… that can’t be true. We—we snuck out to the forest last night, just to… be together, but we returned and went to sleep… I woke up this morning and she was gone, but I assumed she was with you, or training, on in lessons…”

“Stupid girl!” the Queen shouted, slapping Catra across the face. Catra cried out, falling to the floor. “I should have killed you when I found you as a whimpering child! The princess deserves a lady-in-waiting who knows her place!”

Catra breathed heavily. “This… isn’t my fault. I would never  _want_  to her to leave.”

“Come with me,” Shadow Weaver hissed, grabbing Catra by the arm. “ _You_  will explain this to the king.”

Catra allowed herself to be led from the room, shaking out of fear. King Hordak was not known for his acts of mercy.

And she was dragged through the palace hall, a painful question echoed through Catra’s head:  _Why didn’t she take me with her?_

°•. ✿ .•°

Shadow Weaver threw Catra upon the throne room floor, the tile chilling her bare knees. Lard Hordak sat before her, glaring down, confused.

“Why have you brought her?” he asked the Queen.

“The Princess’s lady-in-waiting can best explain her abandonment of the Horde,” Shadow Weaver answered.

Catra tried to steady her breathing, a lump in her throat forming. She hadn’t felt a fear like this since childhood… Adora had since been present to protect her, make life easier, softer, safer. Now Catra was alone, and with no clear use. There was no lady to wait upon.

Hordak sized Catra up, his expression sharp and cold. “Well?”

Catra coughed and managed to meet his eyes. “She—”

“Speak up!” Shadow Weaver urged.

“She could have returned to the woods,” Catra said. “We snuck there last night, to…”

“Yes, yes,” Hordak said, waving the thought away. “We’ve known you to be Adora’s fix for years.”

Catra’s face burned. “Her  _fix_?”

“But it seems she’s outgrown you,” Shadow Weaver said. “In my opinion, you shouldn’t have been paired with her at all, even during childhood. It was a lapse of judgement to allow you into her chambers.”

“Adora… cares for me,” Catra said slowly. “Or so I thought.”

“Well, you’ve outgrown your uses here,” Shadow Weaver said. “Now we can dispose of you like the wild animal you are.”

The Queen motioned for the throne room guards to apprehend Catra, but Hordak cleared his throat.

“Wait,” he said. Catra’s eyes widened. “There may be a use for her yet.”

“Yes?” Catra’s voice caught in her throat.

“I have seen you spar with the Princess,” Hordak said slowly. “You have trained and practiced swordplay by her side since childhood.”

Catra nodded slowly. “Yes, King Hordak.”

“You are competent in combat.”

Catra looked down at her flimsy nightgown, embarrassed. “Y-yes, I am, I could be—”

“Excellent,” the King said, clasping his hands. “You will serve in the Royal Army’s next attack, a second invasion on the kingdom of Salineas. Perhaps you can convince our Princess to return home—through persuasion or force.”

Shadow Weaver gasped in outrage. “That is an awful idea! How could you possibly—”

“And if you fail,” Hordak continued, interrupting his wife, “I will allow the Queen to dispose of you as desired.”

That seemed to satisfy Shadow Weaver. Catra blinked in disbelief but assumed a straight expression soon after.

“I will not disappoint you,” she said, painfully aware that her life was on the line.

Hordak nodded, then turned to Shadow Weaver and a few guards. “See to her relocation in Force Captain Scorpia’s squad.”

Catra rose an eyebrow. She knew a few low-ranking soldiers, but had never met a Force Captain. She wondered if her reputation for being Adora’s ‘fix’ would affect her treatment.

The concept itself was insulting, Catra thought to herself, as she was led from the throne room. Her and Adora had been best friends since childhood—physical affection and sex hadn’t entered the equation until adolescence. And they loved each other, truly… or so Catra thought. Catra wasn’t some sort of plaything for the Princess, not a possession to be used and abandoned. Despite today’s events, she still believed that. There was more between them than Hordak or Shadow Weaver believed.

Although, Adora still owed Catra one hell of an explanation. Perhaps Queen Angella was forcing her to fight for Bright Moon, following a capture. There was no way, at this point, to tell—so Catra would soldier on, literally, and meet Adora on the battlefield.

“Force Captain Scorpia,” Shadow Weaver demanded, knocking on a heavy wooden door. The Queen held a cold hand to Catra’s back. Catra continued to wish she was wearing substantial clothing.

The door opened immediately and a large woman stood behind it. She had short blonde hair and wore a soldier’s uniform.

Scorpia bowed at the queen. “Good evening, Your Majesty.”

“King Hordak wishes that this fool—” Shadow Weaver shoved Catra forward— “accompanies your squad in tomorrow’s invasion of Salineas.”

Catra blushed, yet again. Scorpia cocked her head.

“I recognize you,” she said to Catra. “Do you work in the castle?”

“She was Princess Adora’s lady in waiting,” Shadow Weaver said, taking great pleasure in the ‘was.’

“Oh!” Scorpia exclaimed, extending a gloved hand. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I assume you have combat experience, uh…?”

Catra shook back and nodded slowly. “Catra.”

“On the nose,” Scorpia commented, looking the girl over. “Any particular reason you’re part feline?”

Catra shrugged. “None I’ve found.”

“Fair enough.”

Catra had not expected such a warm reception from such a high-ranking soldier. For the first time today, she felt something resembling comfort.

“I’ll leave her in your hands,” Shadow Weaver said coldly, “for now.”

Chills traveled down Catra’s back as Shadow Weaver departed. Once the Queen was out of earshot, Scorpia chuckled.

“She doesn’t seem to like you very much,” she said, welcoming Catra into her room.

Catra mustered something resembling a smile. “Never has.”

“You grew up in the castle, right?” Scorpia asked, pouring Catra a drink from her cabinet. “You have… something of a reputation.”

Catra groaned. “I do?”

Scorpia shrugged. “I don’t like gossip within my ranks,” she said, “because of the obvious distraction. But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t heard of your… connection… to the Princess.”

“Well, we’re separated now,” Catra said as Scorpia slid her a glass of brass-colored liquid. Catra took a sip of the rum and shuddered.

“What’s your theory?” Scorpia asked, taking a sip of her own drink. “You knew her best, after all. Would she really leave of her volition?”

“No,” Catra said, “I don’t think so. She constantly expressed her dedication to the Horde. I mean, hell, she was planning to marry some random princess—who she certainly wouldn’t love—just for the sake of the kingdom.”

Scorpia nodded sagely. “Well then hopefully you can retrieve her safely.”

The larger woman studied Catra. Catra bristled and scowled. “What?”

“Well, given your… relationship with Adora, I just wonder how you feel about the matter of arranged marriage. And her alleged willingness to participate.”

Catra shrugged. “We have a promise,” she said. “I’ll stay by her side, whatever her kingdom asks of her.”

“But she…”

“Left mine?” Catra said, slamming down her drink. “I’ve noticed.”

Scorpia’s expression softened. “It’s probably what you said. She was captured and coerced. And you— _we_ —are going to bring her back.”

“Thanks for the reassurance,” Catra said. She finished the last of her drink in one gulp.

°•. ✿ .•°

After she was given her uniform, Catra was shown to her new living space, a small cot in the corner of the soldier’s barracks. She had gotten into bed and turned to face the wall, avoiding the stares of the other soldiers, Scorpia’s previous kindness noted but not nearly enough.

There was no warm body beside her own, no reassuring breathing or soft sighs. It was painful, heart-wrenching.

Catra hated the tears running down her cheeks. She felt weak, and pathetic, finally succumbing to her shameful reputation. Who was she, without Adora? Nothing, no one.

She was lost, and it hurt.

Catra allowed sleep to take her.


End file.
